How to Keep Your Welshman Satisfied
by Charity Angel
Summary: In which Gwen propositions Jack and Ianto, Jack does something stupid and Tosh looks after her boys. Janto, Gwen/Rhys (mentioned). Bit of Gwen-bashing going on. Swears from Owen (as usual). Only 'M' due to mentions of rimming.


_This was supposed to be a crack-tastic sequel to "Weevil Hunting", but I kind of failed. It became a bit too serious and smutty to be classed as crack. It's not too smutty, though; just some mentions of sexual acts._

.oOo.

"She asked _what_?"

Jack grinned. It was that dangerous grin that promised either mortal peril, public indecency and/or some frankly excellent sex.

"She wants me to teach her how to give a spectacular blow job."

Ianto set down the item he was trying to inventory. "Do I even want to know how she came to ask you this?"

There was that twinkle in Jack's eyes. It was that dangerous twinkle, Ianto knew from experience. It was generally seen alongside the grin.

"Apparently someone forgets to turn his comm. off during sex."

"But…" Ianto thought quickly: if his comm. was on, that meant he was out in the field. Granted, that didn't immediately rule out sex, but he and Jack had to have been alone. That hadn't happened for a while, certainly nothing even resembling Gwen's request since…

"Fuck! My birthday?"

There was that infuriating grin again, this time indicating that he was right. Ianto's mind took him back of its own accord, recalling those lips around his cock, that wicked tongue twisting around the head, teasing him.

"That was mind-blowing," he admitted, before blushing. "Gwen heard?"

"Looks that way."

"And just how does she propose this lesson occurs?"

Jack bounced on his toes. "I don't think she's thought that far ahead. What do you think?"

Ianto deployed The Eyebrows, coupled with the Hands on Hips. They were both deeply effective on Jack, he knew. "Well, she's not coming anywhere near me."

"I'm guessing that you don't want her near me, either?"

"Correct, and I can't see Rhys letting you in to their bedroom."

Jack's face fell, his brow furrowing. "So…?"

"Buy her a banana," Ianto suggested bluntly. "Or she could actually do something radical, like actually talk to Rhys about what he enjoys. We don't both like the same things, after all, so he would probably like different things too."

"You don't like teeth," Jack mused.

"I find it difficult to believe any twenty-first century male does," Ianto pointed out. "That said, I bow to your greater experience in that area. You don't like it if I carry on after you've come."

Jack shrugged. "It's just too much."

"I also think that Rhys may find some of the things we both enjoy a challenge to his sexuality."

Jack pulled Ianto close. "You mean like rimming?" he purred, his hands tracing along the top of Ianto's belt.

"I was thinking more specifically about you shoving your fingers up my arse, but…" He shrugged. "That works too."

"What about when I rub my cock against yours?" Jack pressed up against Ianto, who deliberately started to breathe through his mouth. He had caught onto that particular trick of Jack's a long time ago, thank you very much. He didn't get caught up in Jack's pheromones unless he wanted to. Right now, that wasn't going to work in his favour.

"I think Gwen would struggle to do that," he said, keeping the conversation on track. He knew it would frustrate Jack no end if he didn't respond. "Unless she's a really convincing pre-op, that is."

Jack's hands had found the buckle of his belt and deftly undid it. "Why are we still talking about Gwen?"

"You started the conversation," Ianto said, ignoring Jack, "and we haven't come to a satisfactory conclusion yet."

Jack pouted. "I think I might need to think carefully about what I'm going to teach her."

Ianto toned down The Eyebrows for this outing: Jack didn't deserve the full blast this time, and they would lose their effectiveness if he used them too often. "I'm sure you've perfected the technique over the last hundred and fifty years or so."

Jack actually backed off a little, clearly confused, giving Ianto the opportunity to turn the tables, neatly pushing Jack into his own desk chair. He leaned over and plucked the comm. device from Jack's ear deftly.

"Let's not repeat past mistakes, shall we?"

With a flourish, he turned the little gadget off, and repeated with his own, tossing them onto the uncluttered desk with abandon. He then turned his full attention to Jack.

.oOo.

"For _fuck's_ _**sake**_!"

Tosh glanced at Owen's rapidly retreating form briefly before turning her attention back to the CCTV. The action had reached a crucial moment (Jack's hands were gripping the arms of the chair so hard she could see the whiteness in his knuckles), and apparently she had found a new way of stopping Owen from peering over her shoulder all the time. Perhaps she should compile a compilation of Jack and Ianto's 'best bits', so to speak, just to pull up at random intervals to wind the doctor up.

She was under no delusions that Ianto wasn't aware of the camera, simply that he knew with absolute certainty that he could rely on her to 'wipe' the footage before Gwen found it come morning. Because she did look, bless her, more so after Tosh had made the mistake of introducing her to the joys of voyeurism via comm.

Tosh had followed Jack and Ianto's relationship from its fumbling beginnings via the CCTV and comms, and had always known that it was more than either Owen or Gwen would ever realise. If only her two boys would work it out for themselves, preferably before she knocked their heads together. She would, if it came down to it, for their sakes, but she hoped not.

Tosh routed the camera feed to her special place in the Mainframe, somewhere Gwen would never discover it, and left them to it. With a naughty smile, she pulled the uneaten banana from her handbag and, on her way past, placed it on the top of the coffee machine for Ianto to find in the morning.


End file.
